


Two O'Clock Surprise

by desert_neon (sproutgirl)



Series: The ICC Application Series [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baking, Clint tries to do things, Human Disaster Clint Barton, M/M, Scones, Tumblr Prompt, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:06:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon
Summary: Phil comes home early. Clint isn't ready.A ficlet of 500 words.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as an application piece for the newly minted [Imagine ClintCoulson](https://imagineclintcoulson.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.
> 
> The prompt was:  
> Imagine Person A preparing a surprise for Person B.

“No. No, no, _no_.” 

Phil didn’t have a chance to step inside the apartment as Clint came flying at him and pushed him back into the corridor, hands warm on Phil’s chest. “What?” Phil asked, because he couldn’t quite figure out how to ask anything more coherent.

“You’re not supposed to be home yet.”

“Yet here I am.” Phil leaned forward for a kiss, but Clint was having none of it.

He scowled at Phil and crossed his arms over his chest. “You said this evening. You said you’d be home ‘this evening.’ It’s two o’clock, Phil. Two o’clock is not evening.”

“What can I say? The op ran smoothly and the debrief was quick. What’s going on?”

Clint’s eyes widened, then his face fell and he ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Nothing _bad_. I swear.”

“Hey,” Phil said softly, reaching out to coax Clint’s head up with gentle fingers. “I never thought it was.” He hadn’t. He was curious, sure, but not suspicious.

Clint licked his lips and glanced away for moment, then looked back to Phil. He seemed to shore himself up, and nodded. “Okay. Okay. Can you give me—”

The request was cut off by the smoke detector suddenly flaring to life, the high-pitched warning resonating through Phil’s skull even as lights flashed inside the apartment and Lucky started barking. Clint’s eyes widened again, and he turned and ran back into the apartment, Phil hot on his heels.

Clint yanked the oven door open, causing smoke to plume out, flames glowing behind it. “Futz! No, oh, man, come _on_!”

Phil immediately grabbed the fire extinguisher from under the sink. “Move,” he ordered, pulling the pin. Clint stepped aside, and Phil smothered the fire with one steady burst of suppressant. As Clint dove in with the oven mitts, Phil moved through the living room to open the windows and turn on the fan.

“It’s okay, Luck,” Phil said to the distressed dog, and he grabbed an ad from the mail pile and waved it in the general direction of the alarm while heading to the door. “Come on, boy, why don’t you roam the building for a bit.”

Lucky readily took the escape, and Phil turned to see Clint digging desperately through the charred remains of a batch of scones. “Aw, scones, no.”

“Clint? What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for… Oh, thank God!” His hand closed around something, only to immediately open again with an “Ow, futz, hot!” The offending item fell to the floor, catching Phil’s eye.

“Is that…” he asked, suddenly breathless as Clint knelt to pick it up.

“Uh, yeah. Well. This isn’t exactly what I’d planned, but since I’m down here. Phil. Do you maybe wanna marry me?”

Phil narrowed his eyes. “Can I expect more incidents like this if I do?” he asked, gesturing to the state of the kitchen.

Clint turned sheepish. “Probably?”

Phil grinned. “Then yes. I do very much want to marry you.”

 

 

—the end—


End file.
